The Mandibuzz and the Braviary
by a sea of sound
Summary: Rosa and Hugh in an old western setting, running from their problems. But you can only run for so long before they catch up to you. For HughMAY week.


**This is so bad I don't even know anymore. Sorry for any stereotyping of southerners. I tried. I really did. And this was more of an experimental fic than anything because I'm attempting to try out different genres that I'm not used to. At all.**

* * *

This is all I know:

One, Mandi went and blew our cover back at Trubbish's.

Two, I lost my Smith & Wesson back at the raid.

And three, I'm still having the most troublesome of troubles tryna' figure her out.

* * *

"Hey! Are you done yet? I've gotta wash all of this gunk outta my hair!"

"I've been in here for five minutes! Do you think I want this crap on me any longer than you do? Besides, it's _your_ fault we fell into that goddamn mud bath!"

"Damnit, Bravi! It's startin' to smell like your armpits in the middle of July up in here! Have pity on a lady!"

"Hah, you're as much of a lady as I am, Mandibuzz."

"Well, with the amount of time you're spendin' in there I'd think you _were_ a lady!"

I step out of the washroom and her glare pierces me straight on like Kyurem Almighty's Ice Beam. In spite of her crystal clear efforts to look intimidating, she looks like one of those private-school girls or the daughter of a wealthy landowner. I figure she's just that; she did mention Accumula Town. That's the area where all the big bosses live, anyway.

Mandibuzz grumbles while she picks small pieces of Poké grub out of her brown hair, darkened by dirt and other things I'd rather not know about. Her eyes are blue, but not like the sky; more like the unpolluted lakes scattered across the drifters' roads around Floccesy. I would say she's a beauty if she wasn't such a pain in the neck, though. Mandi may be beautiful, but boy, _looks are deceiving._

"Quit starin' at me, Bravi." I've grown used to her sharp glowers by now. "Make yourself useful and fetch me my toiletries, would you?"

"All right all right. Using big words like your daddy's a flannel-talker."

"Shut up. My father's as much of a goner as I am—and you, too. It's not my fault I wanted to leave that awful, godforsaken household."

"As if the big bad world isn't scary enough for a princess like you. I would give everything for my maw and my baby sister to live like you did. And you threw it away at the chance to live a life like me." A bitter chuckle escapes my mouth.

It starts like this:

We go on a raid to gather supplies. Living on the run is difficult, but you gotta do what you gotta do. Sometimes we get into small tussles—either with each other or with some random passersby. Never with cashiers; guys are never tending to 'em anyway. Mandibuzz usually distracts with that uncanny femme fatale while I grab the stuff—or, we simply pull out the big guns. Literally. Except I lost mine yesterday during that surprise Trubbish's ambush because she wanted a damn slurpee.

We arrive back at our safe house, or wherever we take shelter. She cleans up, then I clean up, then we hit the sack. If she's feeling feisty, she'll put up an argument and we'll argue until dawn. On occasion I try to get a rise out of her, just because when she's all flustered and has her knickers in a knot, she says things. Things about her apparently deadbeat dad, her offish mother, or her crippled brother.

Mandi's mentioned how her father's a drunk, how her mother's just a submissive old crow who looks like an Amoonguss. Personally, I think the girl just has daddy issues...perhaps mommy issues, too. She's slipped once and told me that her twin brother was seriously injured in a boating accident with her dad. Said he wanted to be a professional basketball player in Nimbasa City, but busted up his legs pretty bad that he can't walk no more. How, Mandibuzz doesn't know. No one's bothered to tell her. Yet, out of all the things she's told me, she still hasn't mentioned her name.

I've told her a couple of things about myself, though nothing too personal. I'm not that kind of guy who likes to get too close and personal with others, especially random strangers. Mandi is an exception because she's said some stuff I'm sure she's never said aloud to anyone, ever, and I guess I could give her the simple pleasure of knowing something about the shady guy she's runnin' around Unova with.

I set out about seven months ago, and I'm still freely wandering around the region. My family had lived in Aspertia City since my great-great-great grandpa was around, so anyone who knew anyone knew the Noirs. Somewhere along those lines I met Mandi.

I left home in search of some kind of calling like some Huckleberry Finn character, mostly because Ma pushed me to do something useful with my good-for-nothing life. Of course I'd always wanted to see the world, the big dreamer I was—key word: was. My mom wanted me to have a shot at something in life, and didn't want me to just stay at home 'cause Dad's sick. Dad's sick and has been sick for a long time; none of us know how long he has left, so I'm just drifting and drifting until I land somewhere stable.

Except the problem is that I don't got no money.

"Hey," Mandi says, her ritzy southern accent leaving my thoughts high and dry. "You don't know the first thing about me, Bravi. So don't you go making assumptions about my home life like it's any of your business, 'cause it ain't." Her voice rises, and for some weird-ass reason it makes me start sweating like a cat in heat. "You don't know how hard it is to wake up everyday knowing your brother—the only person you care about in the whole world—will never walk again. You don't know what it's like for your parents to just blatantly ignore you like the expensive white walls around you!" Mandi's shaking now, her face filled with so much anger. Annoyance, I know and can deal with. But anger? From what little I know of her, she's not the type to really get riled up about just anything. Obviously what she's going on about isn't just anything, but when people start crying and howling, now that leaves me at a complete loss of what to do.

"Know what, Bravi? I've had enough of your fuckin' horseshit." She throws her towel onto the floor, gathering up her supplies. There's a tiny bone in her hair, probably a rat's, so that now she really does resemble a Mandibuzz. These are the times she condescends to my level.

Some odd feeling compels me to get all up in her face, so I do. "Yeah? And where are ya' gonna go, huh? It's two in the fuckin' morning in the middle of nowhere. Gonna run home to Daddy?" I feel the slap before it even comes to me. What I don't expect is for her to punch me repeatedly in the gut and the chest, her tears flying everywhere like one of them Palpitoads I read about that live up north.

"You—inconsiderate—good-for-nothing—piece of shit!" she shrieks, every phrase emphasized by a thrown fist.

I grab her wrist before she can punch me again because she hits pretty darn hard and because I wasn't exactly trying to hurt her feelings. Besides, I was kinda raised on the belief that the only way to motivate someone is to let them know why they started in the first place. "Stop it. Look at me." She does, and her eyes are blazing. "You're better than that. Your dad's a prick, and you deserve better than what you got at home, all right? Look, I know I said to keep things confidential, but that didn't work out at all, didn't it?" Mandi doesn't look convinced. Her brows furrow and her stance remains cautious and waiting. So I concede. "Sorry."

"It's all right, I guess," she sighs, her hand falling out of my grasp. Thick locks of hair obscure her face, the only window to her thoughts. And now I have no way of knowing what she's thinking. "I'm sorry for—"

A loud bang reverberates throughout the area. I panic, grabbing all of the supplies I can while Rosa does the same. Footsteps, loud and thundering and heavy, are coming closer, and I can feel the sweat pouring out of me like a pasta strainer. All I can think is that those guys back at the farm we ransacked figured out who we were and caught up to us, and they sure as hell weren't kindly old farmers. I search blindly for my gun; where the hell could I have put it?

The door to our makeshift resting place wears down with the force from whoever's got some beef with us, and then I remember I sacrificed my Smith & Wesson for Mandi's slurpee. It sounds like multiple people, grown men most likely based on the deep rumble of their voices. Indistinctly I hear someone yell the name Rosa, and Mandi goes pale.

"Rosa, this is your father! You get yourself out of this—this monstrosity before I make up my mind and strangle you to death! I know you're in there!"

I don't think I've ever seen someone as stricken as her; her once ruddy face turns into the color of a day-old corpse, greenish and purple. In the tiny makeshift bathroom in the corner there's a broken window, just big enough for someone lanky like me to crawl out of. Because Mandi hasn't moved and my anxiety is creeping up on me, I hurriedly grasp her bicep and drag her toward the window. The front door of the old shed cracks with the force of kicks and possibly sledgehammers, and chips of wood fly this way and that.

I shove her through the wide window in a very ungentlemanly way before jumping thorugh it headfirst. The knife I keep in my pocket digs into my side slightly, and wincing I pull it out and wrap my fingers around the handle. Mandi still looks extremely shaken, so I still have to guide her as we run into the bordering forest.

The farm we settled in was abandoned with remnants of what appeared to be both a ranch and fields upon fields of tilled dirt. We'd arrived in Nacrene City a week ago, and now I'm pretty sure this isn't the direction toward Striaton City. I guess it doesn't really matter since neither I nor Mandi have a real destination. I've come to the conclusion that we cause so much trouble in the places we come across simply because we need something to run from, and that's what keeps us going 'cause home doesn't exist. Well, I could come home anytime, but Ma would prob'ly just throw me out anyway. She still hasn't given up on my childhood, I'll give her that, despite the fact that I really miss playing games with Abby and helping Ma with dinner and even having one-sided conversations with Dad. I don't miss, however, the long hours of work and the constant sadness of that house. Abby wasn't as happy and Ma was beginning to blur at the edges, like someday I'd look at her and notice that she ain't there anymore. And Dad? Well, Dad's been gone for a while and I doubt he's coming back.

It's nearly been a year. But it still isn't time to come home yet.

Mandi's silent as we hike and forge our own trail in this creepy forest. I hope to Zekrom that there aren't any feral Pokémon out here, though the mighty idealist god hasn't exactly been on my side lately. Neither has Reshiram, but I guess that's 'cause I haven't been the most truthful guy out there. That leaves Kyurem, with his empty body and missing pieces.

I can barely see anything out here, and all I can hear is the silent slithering of Bug Pokémon on their silk webs and the occasional twig either Mandi or I step on. The trees tower high above us and it really doesn't help that it's nighttime and we have no light source. Just in case I keep my hold on Mandibuzz's arm.

A gunshot echoes off in the distance.

Both of us tense and halt all our movements. The only sound is the constant Bug-types and our hushed breathing. However, after a few minutes of being flash-frozen, I decide that no one's coming after us. Unfortunately the nerves haven't settled down yet, and I can't help the underlying chance that we're going to get killed out here.

When the disquiet becomes too much, I say, "Mandi?"

It takes her a few moments to reply. "Yeah?"

"You all right?" I can't see her face or anything for that matter, so I settle for her tone of voice and any minute shifts under my grasp on her arm. Mandi's a good liar, but your body can't lie. Metaphorically.

Again, she's in no rush to give me an answer. "Can we forget what just happened?" she whispers.

No, I think, because forgetting about it would just be avoiding the matter and not tackling it firsthand. I don't mean she should confront her father, I'm just saying that she should face what happened and not be afraid to move on with her life. Forgetting helps, but not for long. She'll remember sometime in the future and feel horrible about it. Which is why the time to live is _now_.

"No," I say with a slight edge to my voice. The muscle in her arm tenses and I know she's looking right at me.

"W-what?" Mandi can't believe someone doesn't agree with her.

"Forgetting would let your dad win," I explain further, yet the tension in her body language doesn't lift.

"So you want me to go back there and surrender, live in his tangled web of lies for the rest of my life while he marries me off to some jerkoff and I'll spend the rest of my life hating myself?" Bird-types, probably Pidoves, wake up and flock away from the sound of Mandi's high soprano voice; she sounds hurt, and I don't blame her.

"Did you not hear what I just said?...It's like confronting your demons, like those heroes in them movies. I'm just sayin' you shouldn't run away from your problems, because no one has that much energy in 'em and you're gonna get tired real fast, believe me."

She laughs without mirth and I'm just the littlest bit insulted. "Runnin' away from your problems? Good advice, you hypocrite. Isn't that what you're doing? Running away from your problems?"

"Right now, you _are_ my problem." I don't even have any excuses for my anger; she just pisses me off so much sometimes. Or all the time.

"Then what the hell do you want me to do?" she cries and her resolve falls apart.

"I want you to stop forgetting and start moving the hell on. 'Cause sooner or later, you're gonna regret just sitting around moping about something stupid, something that was so avoidable but you were too dumb to realize. Your dad's a dickhead. I get it. _You_ get it. Now shut the fuck up and do what you want to do, without thinking of your pop. You can do that, right? If there's one thing I want you to do before we go our separate ways, it's _confront your goddamn demons_. They've got nothing on you."

* * *

Mandi and I first met in Castelia City. It was three months ago, when I still believed my calling was somewhere in the middle of all that hustle and bustle. I saw her at a shady Trubbish's in the middle of a dark alley at probably three in the morning; I was never good with time.

I thought she looked absolutely ridiculous and foolish with her gaudy white sundress and her expensive red cardigan, her brown hair done up in two taut buns on either side of her head with long strands flowing to her waist. Trubbish's at three in the morning on Narrow Street was certainly no place for someone dressed as she was. The guy manning the register was noticeably eyeing her up and down like the creepy fuck he was, and Mandi appeared to have seen the looks he was giving her but did nothing about it, so naturally I took action.

"Run while you can. I don't think this guy plans on lettin' you go," I'd said to her under my breath, pretending to browse the various granola bars. She glanced at me at the corner of her eye, and to my surprise she didn't look the least bit nervous.

"Doesn't matter. I got something that'll make him let me go." First thing I registered was that uncanny Accumula accent. The coy look in her eye interested me, so I raised my hooded head slightly to get a better look at her. Mandi seemed a lot younger than she is now, because then her hair wasn't messy and stringy and unkempt and her clothes weren't baggy and tattered to match mine. Me? Well, I look exactly the same except for the fact that the bags under my red eyes have yet to lift, and my hair doesn't change regularly unlike most people. It's the only thing about me that remains constant; I guess Mandi's constant is that face of hers, so deceivingly alluring.

"Really? And what is that?"

She smiled simperingly at me and for a second I thought she was quite the beauty, but that changed when she joined me in my useless wandering. I watched attentively as she pulled a kitchen knife out of her bag and fought the urge to laugh. Raising my eyebrows, I'd said, "A kitchen knife? That guy probably has a rifle under his desk over there."

A scowl became prominent on her face. "Yeah? And what d'you suppose I do, mister?"

"Whatever you Accumulan people do."

"H-how do you know I'm from Accumula?"

Because her accent made me want to bash my head in. "'Cause your accent makes me wanna bash my head in."

She clearly took offense, which amused me greatly. "Hmph. Then you must be from the West."

Southwest Unova and Southeast Unova have never seen eye-to-eye. The West, where I come from, wasn't as rich as the East 'cause it was still a fairly new settlement, and there was dirt flying around and Pokémon grazing everywhere you looked; in other words, it was home to me and made me feel tranquil. On the other hand, the East was rather conservative and many wealthy businesspeople go there to settle down after they've aged. The 'burbs where every single child comes out a carbon copy of their parents and I'm also sure that arranged marriage is a popular thing over there. It was basically the part of the region everyone seems to think ideal, though I personally don't give to all that bullshit. Parents send their kids to private schools and universities and they all have sticks up their asses the size of the damn region.

"Whatever. At least I'm not a robot."

She harrumphed and turned away from me toward the front of the store, holding just a small carton of coconut water. Typical.

I walked around to the corner of the store nearest to the door, watching from under my hood as the storekeeper put a lock on the door. He probably thought I left so he could have his way with Robot Girl over there. I looked from the other side of the aisle to see that she had a ready hand stuck in the recesses of her purse. I couldn't hear what the seedy guy was telling her, but judging by the coy look in his eye he'd said something that made her uncomfortable, but then she brandished her knife and quickly held it to his neck. I didn't know what her plan was, so I thought she was overreacting a little or pulling her moves a bit too fast, but then the dude opened the cash register and handed her a thick wad of money. He looked absolutely petrified as he shook and sputtered all over the place, and I hated to admit that I was pretty impressed.

Placing her knife back into her bag, she brushed past the counter to the locked glass door. I turned my attention back to seedy guy over there, but he seemed like he recovered from his fright and actually appeared to be pretty pissed. With stealth he stalked toward her armed with nothing but his bony yet hairy hands and he had her up against the wall by the throat, and his motives were no longer characterized by just lust.

So I sneaked up behind him armed with my unloaded Smith & Wesson and whacked him in the side of the head with it, effectively knocking him out. Mandi fell to the floor gasping for air while I searched the guy for anything else that could be of use to me.

When she finally caught her breath, she began to say something before I interrupted her.

"Rule one: you do not, under any circumstances, put away your weapons when an enemy is present."

* * *

After a while she says, "I—yeah, you are right. But..."

"But what, Mandi?" _Or do you prefer Rosa?_

As I continue walking, Mandi doesn't reply. But when I swerve to glance back at her she's got her head tipped back and she's staring at the dark canopy of trees above our heads. My eyes jolt wide when Mandi lets loose a loud scream, and all of her contained frustration and fury is released and so palpable I can feel my arm hairs rise to attention. Her shriek sounds like she's being assaulted and it makes me a bit uncomfortable. She ends it on a light growl, her fists balled up at her sides.

"Better?" I quirk my eyebrows up and smile at the dark outline of her form. Her breaths are heavy with her effort.

"Yeah. Much." She slumps down to the ground and sits down on the earthy ground. It smells distinctly of manure and dirt, yet that makes me feel at home somehow. To say the least, I'm shocked she isn't hesitant to lie down on the ground because she'd usually scrunch up that pretty little face of hers in disgust. I lay down beside her on the ground and together, we watch the stars we can't even see.

"Brav?" she says, breaking the silence a couple minutes or hours later.

"It's Hugh." Boundaries are broken. There isn't any use hiding anything anymore, anyway. I know her name, so it's only fair that she knows mine, though I think she'll always be Mandibuzz to me and I'll always be Braviary to her. The wayward vulture and the fallen eagle.

"That's so...fitting."

I twist my head to the side to again gaze at the darkness that surrounds her subtle outline, confused as hell. "Why?"

"Well, actually I was kind of expecting something more...manly, like Sterling or Felix, but Hugh fits too. It's pretty manly in its own right, without being too much if ya' know what I mean."

"I don't really know what you mean, but thanks, I think. Could I call you Rosa or..."

"Huh? Oh, yeah sure. It's just weird 'cause I haven't heard someone call me Rosa for months, and I think I nearly forgot what my name was back there before Father came..." The grass and fallen leaves underneath us crackle loudly as she shifts her head, turning back to the sky. "Hey Hugh?"

"When I was a kid and read those fairy tales, they always said the stars blinked and that always confused me 'cause they don't have eyes...why do you think people say that?" In the dark I can feel her eyes on me, and I know her right eyebrow is furrowed slightly and her mouth is open just enough to show her top row of perfectly straight teeth.

My mother had always been a dreamer more than a realist, unlike my father. She is the type of person who believes in fairy tales and thinks everything is true unless the thing is proven to be wrong. I remember back to when she used to say she never bought books for my sister and me because she liked to make up her own to tell us.

"My mom would say that the stars blinked because they're actually our guardians and ancestors watching us from above. Even in the afterlife they have to blink, and when it rains or gets cloudy that means they've taken a break."

"You've never told me about your family before." I could basically feel the smile in her voice and for the first time, it doesn't irritate me. I'm actually kind of amused by her interest.

"Really? I thought I did."

"Nope. Do you miss them?"

"Yes," I say without hesitation because I do. I miss my mom's cooking, I miss my sister's stupid laugh, and I miss my dad's silent reassurance.

Mandi—Rosa, I mean—sighs to herself and there's a sense of longing lingering in her voice. "I miss home, too, but mostly because I miss my friends and my brother. Home was so bad that I felt OK not being there. But you're lucky you'll always have somewhere to go home to. My dad's never going to let me back home, ever. He's probably burned me off the family tapestry. I can't believe my family actually has one of those."

She laughs shortly before she starts bawling and welcomes herself to cry on my shoulder. I awkwardly wonder where to pat her—her head or her back?—and settle for her back. Surprisingly, she's pretty quiet when she cries, only making noise when she hiccups.

"Hugh?" she sniffles, her voice full and distant.

"Huh?"

"Where do you go when you can't go home?" she asks, and only then do I realize she's moved her head to my chest. Sneaky one, she is.

"You just go. You go until you find your home, or until you make one yourself. Because sometimes other people can't do everything for you. And people suck, so why count on 'em?"

"Do you think you're gonna go back to your family anytime soon?"

"Yeah, I'm sure I will someday. I don't know when, though."

"Could I come with you then?"

I see my mother trying to teach Rosa how to cook, I see her giving Abby tips on makeup and doing it for her, I see her chatting to my inanimate father. It could work, I'm sure, and for some reason only now do I realize she's the closest thing I've ever had to a friend, which is pretty sad, but I'm glad it's Rosa. She may be an annoying spoiled brat, but she's got a good head on her shoulders and is someone I know I could count on. And from what I know, you don't meet these kinds of people very often.

"Sure, Mandi. Let's make ourselves our home."

After I finish blushing and thanking the legendary gods that it's too dark for her to see, I figure that maybe now is the time to come home.

* * *

"Hugh! Holy Zekrom, Reshiram, and all of the gods' glory! Oh gosh, you're really home! You know I wasn't serious, right? You could've come home anytime! And who's this?"

"Are you kidding me, Ma? Agh, I should've known... This is Rosa. She's a friend of mine and I was wondering if it'll be all right if she stayed with us for a while?"

"Of course! Of course! Hi, sweetie! You can call me Audrey, or Mrs. Noir if it makes you feel better."

"It's great to meet you, Mrs. Noir. And thank you so much for lettin' me stay with you."

"Your accent...Accumula Town? Now, don't be offended, but I'm not surprised you don't wanna go home, kiddo. Rough, ain't it?"

"I—yeah. It is. I don't think I'm welcome back home anymore anyway..."

"Yeah I know what you're sayin' hon. I'm an Accumula girl myself, but then I met my husband and I haven't seen my folks since. But anyway, come in! Come in! Hugh, you wouldn't believe how tall Abby's gotten—I think she's about up to your shoulders now!"

* * *

I stop Rosa as she takes a step into my house.

"Rule one: you do not, under any circumstances, wear shoes in this house."

* * *

**Well this just sucked. You can probably tell how experimental it is :O Got the idea for this when (passively) watching the movie _Hick_ starring Chloe Grace Moretz, Eddie Redmayne, and Blake Lively. It was meh.**

**Anyway I should probably stop writing fanfiction and study for my AP History exam...yeah, no.**

**Kind of got the idea of the rules from _Fight Club_ although I never read/saw it.**

**On another impertinent note, for anyone of y'all who happen to be looking for a good book to read I highly recommend _Invisible Monsters Remix_ by Chuck Palahniuk (who is also the author of _Fight Club_). It's so good and plot twists are literally around every corner. **


End file.
